Harry Potter and the Sword of Truth
by DarkSorcerer888
Summary: It all starts in the hospital wing when Harry Potter comes down with a case of a typical wizarding ailment known as Dragon Pox. In his dreams, Harry retrieves a sword from an ancient castle and, lo and behold, when he wakes up the sword is on his hip. He then finds out that the sword is related to his destiny and that his destined partner and soul-mate is none other than Hermione!
1. It all starts in the hospital wing!

Harry Potter & the Sword of Truth

Chapter One: It all starts in… the Hospital Wing?

Harry Potter laid in a Hospital Wing bed on the edge of death, as far as he was concerned. His fever was at 38.3333 degrees Celsius and rapidly climbing. His face was as pale as a sheet and he was sweating bullets.

"Hang on, Mr. Potter, Severus will be here momentarily with a potion that will cool you down," the Hogwarts mediwitch/healer, Poppy Pomfrey, said soothingly, her hand pressed to his forehead in order to keep track of his temperature.

Just as Harry was about to lose his cool (literally and figuratively), Severus Snape burst into the room with a vial of milky-white liquid in his hand. Hogwart's resident dungeon bat and Potion's Master quickly handed the vial to the healer. "That's the most potent fever reducer I could brew in such short notice. It is temporary, so I will bring a better, more permanent one later," said the Potion's Master.

Poppy nodded in thanks and pressed the opening of the vial to her patient's lips. "Drink, Mr. Potter." Harry complied and swallowed the foul potion as the mediwitch poured it into his mouth. Once it was all gone, the healer disposed of the empty vial with a flick of her wand. Harry felt better as his fever went down to a manageable 37.2222 degrees Celcius.

"I imagine you feel as if you're dying, Mr. Potter," Poppy said with chagrin, "but I can assure you that you are not. This is hardly the first case of Dragon Pox that I have had to treat this year, and it won't be the last. I assume you are feeling better?" Harry nodded his head. "Good. A house elf will soon show up with dinner for you. I want you to eat as much as you can and then get some sleep. You will be released from my care all the sooner if you do both things." Harry nodded again and smiled at the healer as she left. True to the mediwitch's word, an elf popped in with a dinner tray and Harry joyfully dug in to the array of food that the elf brought him. He then handed the tray back to the elf and nodded his head in thanks. The elf smiled before popping away. Harry lied back on the bed and fell asleep quickly.

In his dream, Harry was in a castle that appeared even more ancient than Hogwarts, if that was possible. He strode into the main chamber of the castle as if he knew what he was doing and came to stand before a sword that hung from the far wall. Obeying the urge that came over him, He grasped the handle of the sword with his right hand and the sheath with his left and lifted it from the hooks that it hung from. As he pulled the sword from its sheath, there was a blinding flash of light and he awoke with a start. Feeling a weight on his hip, he looked down and sure enough the sword from his dream was hanging from his hip in its sheath. "Magic," he said, sighing fondly.. "It makes sure my life can never be normal. Now I wonder what this sword is called." Pulling the sword from its sheath, he looked at the blade, which was bare, so he looked at the hilt. Sure enough, engraved on the hilt, was one word, _truth_. In his mind, he heard a whisper. _"You have acquired the Sword of Truth, Mr. Potter. You are now the Seeker of Truth!_ _Your destined soul-mate and partner, the Mother Confessor, awaits you. Hearken to her side at once, you will know where to find her. Here is a hint, you already know her and will most likely find her in a library. The best of luck to you, young Seeker._ " Harry immediately realized the identity of the mother confessor. _Hermione!_

Harry returned to sleep with a new sense of comfort knowing that his best friend, and (more or less) secret girlfriend, would be there with him every step of the way. That she was his destined soul-mate gave him no small amount of satisfaction.

888

It was three days and seven potions, each one more disgusting than the last, later that Harry was released from the Hospital Wing under provision that he took it easy for a week or so. "No Quidditch and no shenanigans for at least a week, Mr. Potter, do you hear me?" the mediwitch had told him sternly, causing him to nod furiously, desperate to get out of the Hospital Wing and see his girlfriend. And his friend Ron too… maybe… okay, not really.

The moment he exited the Hospital Wing, he was tackled to the floor by his girlfriend, who peppered his face with kisses in her excitement.

"Guess what," he told his girlfriend once she had calmed down a bit.

"What?" she asked.

"I just found out that you are my destined soul-mate," he said. "Also, you are something called the 'Mother Confessor'." That revelation earned him another kiss.

"I always knew we were meant for each other," his girlfriend said after breaking away from him to catch her breath. "But what the hell is a 'Mother Confessor'?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I just know that whatever it is, I'll be with you thru anything and everything that comes your way. I also don't know what a 'Seeker of Truth' is, only that I am one, and that I got a cool new sword because of it." He unsheathed his new sword, showing Hermione the name on the hilt. "This is the 'Sword of Truth', which apparently makes me the 'Seeker of Truth'."

"So we're in this together," said Hermione. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You're the smartest and sexiest witch on the planet and I'm the luckiest son of a bitch alive to have you with me," Harry told her. That earned him another kiss as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

888

"Cool sword mate," said Ron to Harry as he spotted the sword on his best mate's hip. "Guess you're becoming a true noble wizard. You are the first Potter to carry a sword, like a noble wizard, in over a century."

"You know about my family's history?" asked Harry, surprise written all over his face.

"Sure," said Ron with a shrug. "Every pureblood alive knows about the founding five, that is, House Potter, House Longbottom, House Bones, House Davis, and House Greengrass. They are the five families that put their family magics together in order to found the Ministry of Magic. House Potter and House Longbottom are traditionally light families, although members of each house have been gray (neutral) or dark in the past. House Bones is a traditionally gray family, even though members of the house have been light or dark in the past. Finally, House Davis and House Greengrass are traditionally dark families, although members of each house have been light or grey in the past. Each family has a noble history, although only House Longbottom and House Greengrass still practice the traditions of magical nobility generation to generation. If you bring back the tradition in House Potter, then that will be three families that practice nobility. House Potter is actually the one independent house of the founding five. The other four houses intermarry with each other regularly. In fact, Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass have been betrothed since birth, as have Chad Davis, a seventh year Slytherin and older brother of Tracey Davis, and Susan Bones. Your grandfather, Charlus Potter, is actually the only Potter in known history to marry a pure-blood. Potters generally favor bright muggleborn (and on occasion half-blood) witches, as proven by your father's marriage to your mother, Lily Evans, a muggleborn Potions and Charms mistress, and the brightest witch of her age. The Potter infatuation with smart muggleborns is so well known that it will surprise no one when you and Hermione make your relationship public knowledge. If you want further information about the founding five, ask someone like Malfoy. I'm from a family of proud blood-traitors, so I don't know as much as a true pure-blood witch or wizard would. I'd say ask Neville, but he's rather tight-lipped about anything concerning his family legacy. He might be more forthcoming with a fellow member of the founding five, but I wouldn't bet on it. Susan might be an option, but I don't know much about her, nor do I know much about Daphne. Malfoy, however, if my analysis of his character is anywhere near accurate, would love to sing the praises of powerful noble wizarding families like the founding five."

"Thanks mate, I'll take that into consideration," chuckled Harry before heading over to sit on the couch in the common room next to Hermione, who had taken a seat during his conversation with Ron.

Hermione snuggled into Harry's side when he sat down. They spent the rest of that Sunday cuddling on the couch and talking about their future goals. Once nine-o-clock in the evening hit, they retired to Harry's bed in the boy's dorm and snuggled together as they drifted off into dream land.

 **Author's Note**

 **This is a bit of a crossover with the Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind. In it, Harry Potter fills the shoes of Richard Cypher (Rahl) as the Seeker of Truth and Hermione fills the white gown of Kahlan Amnel as Mother Confessor. Indeed, Hermione will wake up in the white Mother Confessor dress in the next chapter. Her hair will also take on that sleek flawless look that characterizes the confessor race. She will fall asleep as a mere witch and wake up as the Mother Confessor just as Harry Potter fell asleep in the hospital wing as a mere wizard and woke up as the Seeker of Truth and (tho he did not know it) Lord Rahl.**

 **The Sword of Truth series is one of the best fiction novel series that has ever been written. Unfortunately, there is not a Sword of Truth Book category on fanfiction dot net, so I will either have to use the Legend of the Seeker Movie category, or simply post this as a Harry Potter fanfiction. As of now, I'll post in the Harry Potter Book category only, as this is not a true crossover as of yet. It is not placed in the Sword of Truth universe, but in the Harry Potter universe. Also, none of the Sword of Truth characters are likely to show up unless I make them go to the Old World and enter the Palace of the Prophets for some reason.**

 ** & that's the last word, because I said so!**


	2. The Mother Confessor Awakens

Harry Potter & the Sword of Truth

Chapter Two: The Mother Confessor Awakens

 _Hermione's Dream:_

 _For a reason that Hermione could not figure out, she was being chased by men in unfamiliar military apparel. "You can run but you can't hide, Mother Confessor!" said the man leading her pursuers. "No one else in this world wears a dress like yours, you're hardly inconspicuous!"_

Dress? _Hermione thought in confusion. Lo and behold, when she looked down she found that she wore a form-fitting long-sleaved white dress that was long enough to brush her ankles, tho it was cut from the hem to the waist on each side so that it did not impact her movement as she ran. She also noticed that her hair was now sleek and black, cascading flawlessly down to her mid-thighs._

 _She was so distracted by her appearance that she didn't notice the D'Haran soldiers gain on her. Just as she realized that they were about to catch up with her, she woke up with a start._

The first thing Hermione noticed on waking was that she still wore the dress that she had in her dream. The change of her hair was also carried from her dream into reality. She ran down to the common room and right up the stairs into the boy's dormitory, desperate to be comforted by her boyfriend.

She hadn't yet reached Harry's bed when she was noticed by the last person she wanted to see her like this. Ron.

"What're you doing here, Hermione?" the redheaded boy asked groggily. "What's with the dress? What happened to your hair?" Not in the mood to deal with Ronald's lack of tact, she grasped him by the throat, guided entirely by instinct. She then felt a power release. It was like a silent clap of thunder. Ron's pupils became smaller as Hermione's widened. "Command me, confessor," Ron said in a dull tone.

"Go back to bed and leave me be for now," snapped Hermione. With haste, Ron obeyed, returning to his bed and shutting his eyes. Within seconds, she could hear his annoying snoring. "What the hell just happened?" she asked of no one in particular.

 _You used your power, Mother Confessor_ , said a voice in her head. _Confessors have the power to destroy a person's mind and make them the Confessor's puppet. The only way to reverse this is the death of the Confessor._

"So I just destroyed Ron's mind," Hermione asked with wide eyes. "What will be the consequences of this? Will I get in trouble? Will I be expelled?" She was practically hyperventilating.

 _Calm yourself, Mother Confessor_ , said the voice. _The use of a Confessor's power is completely legal and even encouraged in some situations. If anyone did object, the First Wizard would deal with them._

"First Wizard?" asked Hermione in confusion.

 _There are orders of wizards. Most wand wizards are wizards of the Third Order. Some of them, like Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Filius Flitwick transcend the norm and become wizards of the Second Order. Very few ever transcend into the First Order, Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindewald, and Tom Riddle being the only ones to do so in recent history. As the Seeker of Truth, as well as a Child of Prophecy, your soul-mate, Harry Potter, has the potential to be the forth wand wizard to do so this century. To do so, he must master Wizard Fire, a wandless form of fire-element magic that is similar in effect to what wand-wizards call Fiendfyre, only it is completely controllable. To transcend to just the second order, conversely, one must invent their own piece of magic. One must do both if they wish to be in contention for the coveted title of First Wizard._

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" asked the groggy voice of the person the voice in her head was talking about.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, embracing him and burrowing into his embrace. "I am now truly the Mother Confessor, the first of my race to exist in this world."

"Did you get any cool powers?" asked Harry excitedly.

"Ask Ron," Hermione said dryly.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"He got a taste of my new power when he interrogated me when I came up here," she told him.

"What did you do?" asked Harry.

"My power destroys a person's mind and makes them into my human puppet," admitted Hermione. "Ron is the first to experience it."

"He probably did something to deserve it," said Harry. "Can it be reversed?"

"Not unless you want me to die," said Hermione frankly.

"For Ron?" asked Harry incredulously. "He can stay a brain-dead puppet for all I care!"

"Is there anyone you would kill me to release?" asked Hermione, curious.

"No one in this world," Harry promised. "Now if we had any children, that would change."

"My children will, without fail, be Confessors," said Hermione. "The power of Confessors cannot affect other Confessors."

"Then there will be no one worth your life to me," promised Harry solemnly.

888

"Miss Granger, what on Earth are you wearing?" asked Professor McGonagall as she spotted Hermione in her white Confessor's dress at the breakfast table.

"I am the Mother Confessor," replied Hermione simply. "This is my dress."

"What on Earth are you talking about, Miss Granger?" the Professor asked in a confused tone.

"Minerva," Professor Dumbledore called. "A moment."

Dumbledore and McGonagall had a conversation in hushed tones while the students watched in wonder. Finally, McGonagall returned to the Gryffindor table.

"The Headmaster has informed me of what a 'Confessor' is," said Professor McGonagall. "See that you don't let anything happen to that dress, whether due to a spell or potion. While your magic as a Confessor will repair the dress, it will hurt like nothing short of a Cruciatus as it does so."

"Thanks for the advice, Professor," Hermioine said graciously.

"My pleasure, Mother Confessor," said the Professor before returning to the staff table to have what looked like a heated discussion with Professor Snape.

"It's nice that she told us about this now, and that we won't find out the first time something happens to your dress," said Harry.

"It is," said Ron. "If I saw Mistress in such pain, I'd feel compelled to stop it. Which, if I heard right, would be impossible, and so I would be compelled to punish myself."

"Merlin, Mione, you turned Ron into a freckled, red-headed house elf!" exclaimed Harry. "Dobby might have a new friend!" Hermione and Harry shared a hearty laugh. "What happened to the Hermione that despised every form of slavery on principle?"

"She became a Confessor," replied Hermione. "It's hard to despise something that is pretty much your very nature. It is a Confessor's nature to enslave."

"Just like it's in a seeker's nature to seek the truth," mused Harry.

"Exactly," said Hermione.

"Classes should be interesting," Harry noted. "Can you even use regular magic anymore, Hermione?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "Let me check." Hermione drew her wand.

 _Be cautious, Mother Confessor_ , said the voice from earlier. _If you try to use a spell that's too powerful to determine in your friend's eyes that you cannot use spells as you know them, you could cause any number of reactions. Just not the spell that you try to cast. A Confessor's core is too chaotic for a Confessor to use her magic in any of the standard spells that wand wizards have come up with. Rowena Ravenclaw, the last Confessor to live in this world, invented spells and rituals that Confessors could perform. She left her spell_ _-_ _book in t_ _he Room of Hidden Things._

 _Wait a minute_ , Hermione thought back. _I thought I was the first Confessor to ever be born in this world._

 _You are the first Mother Confessor prospective_ , corrected the voice. _Regular Confessors have less power than Mother Confessor prospectives. If more than one Mother Confessor prospective is living at a time, then the oldest or most powerful Confessor is deemed Mother Confessor. Regular Confessors wear a black dress, not unlike a formal witch's robe. Mother Confessor prospectives wear a gray dress, except for the Mother Confessor herself, who wears a dress of pure white. As you are currently the only Mother Confessor prospective living, you are thus the Mother Confessor, and you likely will be until you die or pass on the title to another Mother Confessor prospective._

 _If I can't do normal spells, then what is the point of trying to do one now?_ Asked Hermione.

 _It will assure your friends of the fact_ , explained the voice.

Nodding, Hermione pointed her wand at nothing in particular and incanted: " _Lumos!_ " Nothing happened.

 _There are spells known today that were developed by Rowena, or a Ravenclaw confessor before her_ , said the voice. _The killing curse, Avada Kedavra, is one of them. As are the other two so-called unforgivables._

"Alright, I'm going to try something crazy," said Hermione, pointing her wand at Ron, knowing that he wouldn't have the mind to care about what she did to him. " _Crucio!_ " Ron writhed in pain for a moment before she lifted the curse. "So Rowena's spells work for Confessors, but spells invented by normal witches and wizards do not."

"Rowena? You mean Rowena Ravenclaw?" asked Harry. Hermione nodded. "That explains so much."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"I always knew there was a reason why the penalty for using an unforgivable on a free witch or wizard was life in Azkaban rather than the Dementor's Kiss or a trip thru the Veil of Death," replied Harry. "It makes sense if one of the founders was the one to develop those spells. Witches and Wizards in Britain still revere the founders of Hogwarts. As it is, I'm surprised the penalty for using them is so severe."

"How many people who use the unforgivables on their fellow witches or wizards actually get convicted and sent to Azkaban?" reasoned Hermione. "None, if you don't count those who went to Azkaban for far more compelling reasons. Lets face it, the penalty for the Unforgivables is only on the books, it isn't actually enforced, or hasn't been for so long that the last time it was has been lost to the annals of history."

"Is that why you decided to cruciate Ron in a room full of witnesses?" asked Harry pointedly.

"Oh, relax! Ron hardly counts as a free wizard!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's practically a human house elf, except house elves actually have minds of their own and sort of have free will. He also doesn't have the mind to care about the curse I just cast on him. He is completely devoted to me. I wouldn't have done it if I had thought he would have actually suffered for real."

"Merlin, Hermione, you really have changed," said Harry. "The Hermione I knew would have never had the gumption to watch the face of a friend in pain that she herself caused. Frankly, your new self is dead sexy, but a little cruel."

Hermione made a sexy pose. "I know I am. You remind me of just how attractive you find me every time we're alone. Quite frankly, if I didn't need you to satisfy my bloody teenage hormones, I'd insist you call a sex addiction hot-line."

"Ditto," said Harry. "You are at least as addicted as I am, admit it!"

"So what if I am?" asked Hermione. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing now," replied Harry. "But when we're alone..." He trailed off with a smirk.

"You complete man-whore!" accused Hermione mirthfully.

"Your complete man-whore," Harry shot back.

"Touché, my love," said Hermione. "Touché."

"Get a room…" began Fred.

"…you two!" finished George.

"That's the plan," Hermione told them.

"Then stop planing on it…" began Fred.

"…and just do it!" finished George.

"Fine!" exclaimed Hermione, taking Harry's hand and leading him from the Great Hall.

Harry and Hermione showed up at Transfiguration that morning with disheveled clothing and wide grins. Professor McGonagall gave them a stern look but said nothing.


End file.
